


stars fell down before us

by mwestbelle



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, BDSM Scene, Bad Sex, Consent Play, Dom Drop, Hurt/Comfort, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Rape Roleplay, Safeword Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-07
Updated: 2014-01-07
Packaged: 2018-01-07 19:42:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1123652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mwestbelle/pseuds/mwestbelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve tells himself he's been in worse scrapes than this, but it's hard to think of one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	stars fell down before us

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the trope_bingo square: "role reversal"
> 
> Title is from "Pickin' Up the Pieces" by Fitz and the Tantrums
> 
> WARNING: As tagged, this fic contains rape roleplay and a BDSM scene that goes badly. Please read with caution if these are potential triggers for you.

Steve tells himself he's been in worse scrapes than this, but it's hard to think of one. He's still in uniform, but his cowl is gone, and his wrists are bound above him. The chains that are holding his arms up look like nothing special, but no matter how he strains, they don't break.

"Welcome, Captain," says a low voice behind him. Steve doesn't jump or crane to see; he's not going to play into some villain's game. He stands tall, arms held high above his head, still trying subtly to flex against the bonds.

"Not much of a welcome. I hope you don't treat all your guests this way."

"Only the special ones." Steve can practically hear the smirk, and he's focusing on his breathing. There's no reason to panic. The rest of his team will come find him soon, surely. He listens to the footsteps until they stop just behind him. He's not sure if he's imagining it, or if he can actually feel the man's body heat radiating through the thin material of his uniform. "And you, Captain America, are very special."

"So they tell me." Steve puts all his strength into a sharp tug at the chains, hoping they'll detach from the ceiling, at least give him some mobility back. They hold steady, and the man behind him laughs.

"I'm a better host than that. I've prepared for you."

Steve rattles the chains, now that there's no chance of capturing the element of surprise. "Admantium chains?"

"Oh no." The man slides his hand up the side of Steve's arm, up to run his fingers over the links of the chain. "It's not the chain that I've prepared. It's you."

This is his chance. Steve jerks his head back, hoping to catch his captor on the jaw and stun him. Instead, he's stopped by cold, unyielding metal curled around the back of his head, holding him. The man's other arm leaves the chain to wrap around his middle, and no matter how Steve struggles, he can't get free. It's as though all of his strength is gone, as though he's...he stops struggling, breathing hard.

"Yes," the man says. His breath is hot on the back of Steve's neck, and it turns his stomach. "You understand now?"

Steve grits his teeth. This is definitely the worst situation he's ever gotten himself into; where the hell is his team? "What did you give me?"

"Just a little blocking cocktail. Enough to deactivate the serum. You may still look big, but you're weak as a kitten." He shifts, closer still, and Steve can feel the unmistakable hardness of a dick against him. He wishes he could believe it was a gun, but he's felt too many guns in his time not to know the difference.

"What do you want?" Steve swallows hard, trying to clear his suddenly dry mouth. The longer he can stall, keep this guy talking, the more time the Avengers have to find him. "World domination?"

"My eventual plans aren't your concern." His voice is so smooth, but there's a rough quality underneath. It sounds like he's just barely holding on. "But right now, I think what I want is pretty clear."

There's a knife pressing against Steve's hip, and the blade cuts through his uniform like butter. In seconds, the rear of his costume has been sliced away, leaving him so painfully vulnerable. He resists the instinctive urge to shiver, squeezing his eyes shut.

"In my day, you took someone you liked out to dinner, maybe some dancing first."

"Oh, Captain, please." The man chuckles, and that's when Steve really knows he's screwed. "I don't _like_ you."

Steve bites his tongue hard to keep from making a sound when his briefs are pulled down over the curve of his ass. He tastes blood when the first dry finger probes at him, but the next touch is a slick one. His body takes one, two, three fingers easily, _so_ easily, and he's always been sensitive. The stimulation to his prostate is already betraying him, his cock heavy and hard between his legs even as his body is violated.

"Look at you," the man says. "Captain America is just another common slut. I shouldn't have bothered tying you up. You would have rolled onto your belly and begged me given the chance."

The last thing he wants is to give this monster any satisfaction. He presses his lips tight together, but even superhuman determination - if he even has that anymore, with the serum deactivated - can't stifle every whimper.

"Like a cat in heat." The fingers twist in hard, teasing his prostate with punishing efficiency. "I should have brought some of my men. They could use a reward like you."

Steve huffs out a breath. He's practically hanging from the chain now, barely able to stand. He shifts minutely to give himself better traction, but it just spreads his legs wider, lets those damn fingers in deeper. He bites the inside of his cheek . He can deal with this. He can find some way to tune out the rhythmic thrust of fingers inside him, even the sparks of pleasure that are making his dick leave a wet smear on the front of his uniform.

It's when the fingers disappear, and he knows what's next that he finally breaks. "Stop," he says. His voice cracks when he speaks, but he's too wrung out to be ashamed. "Please, stop. Don't do this."

There's a pause, and then a slap to his hip. "You think you can beg me? You're welcome to try."

"I can't--" Steve inhales deeply through his nose. "I can't take it. Please let me go, I...just _torture_ me if that's what you want, I can't take anymore of this."

This pause is longer. So long that Steve is starting to tense, dreading the blow that will come next, or maybe there will be no blow, no warning, just a dick shoved into him with merciless force. But it's neither of those.

" _Red_ ," Bucky says. He sounds shattered, and Steve slips his wrists free from the loops of chain and turns around as quickly as he can. Bucky's backed up against the bedroom wall, staring at Steve with haunted eyes. "Fuck. Fucking _fuck_ , fuck."

"Hey, no." Steve feels unpleasantly wet when he cross to Bucky, the slick lube between his thighs no longer erotic. He pauses when he's an arm's length away. "Can I touch you?" Bucky nods, and Steve puts his hand on Bucky's shoulder. "Do you feel like sitting down?"

Bucky nods again, letting Steve guide him over to the bed. Steve's heart is still pounding, coming off of the adrenaline high, and his dick is wilting. Bucky obviously isn't hard anymore; he wonders when he lost it. It feels ridiculous to get into bed still wearing the sliced up costume, a $20 discount Halloween reject, so Steve strips it off, letting it fall in a red, white, and blue spandex heap on the ground. He pulls on a t-shirt and some sweatpants before he sits down next to Bucky.

They sit there for a long time. Steve listens to Bucky breathe, and after a few minutes he gets up to fill a glass of water in the bathroom. Bucky drinks the whole thing in one long swallow, then ducks his head and keeps breathing. Steve rests a hand on the back of his neck first, and when Bucky doesn't shrug him away, he starts rubbing his back in slow, easy circles.

"I'm sorry," Bucky finally says. Steve huffs and leans in to rest his forehead against Bucky's shoulder. Despite the back rub, his posture is stiff and awkward, like he's going to get dressed down by a commanding officer.

" _I'm_ sorry. I should've known better than--"

"No." Bucky shifts, forcing Steve to look up at him, meet his eyes. "I told you I could do it. It's not your job to second guess me when I say I'm up for something. I shouldn't have pushed it. I just...I know you must miss it."

Steve sighs. He still feels guilty for jumping at the offer, even when he suspected Bucky wasn't quite ready for anything that intense yet. But Bucky's right. "We don't have to go all-in, Buck. I mean, we don't have to do it at all. I get off just fine without pain, thanks."

"I've noticed," Bucky says, and that helps. Steve reaches over to take his hand. Bucky squeezes it. "I thought maybe if I just...got back in the saddle, it would be okay."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Bucky snorts. "Do I ever?" He keeps rubbing his thumb over the side of Steve's hand, and eventually he speaks again. "I realized I could do it. For real. That...that was inside of me."

"You wouldn't," Steve says immediately. He remembers back in the beginning, when neither of them understood quite why Steve liked to struggle. Liked Bucky to not let him get away. It took Bucky a long time to believe that Steve wasn't sick for liking it. That _he_ wasn't sick for liking how Steve liked it, that they could both enjoy the blossom of bruises on his skin, bruises they made together. It was easy to hold him down in those days. 

Bucky bares his teeth in a tight smile. "I could. I always could, I guess, but...it feels sharper now. It's all closer to the surface. Right under my skin."

Steve leans in to kiss his cheek. "I love you. I trust you. Wouldn't do this with anyone I didn't trust with my life, you know that."

"Doesn't make you right," Bucky shoots back, but Steve can tell he's softening up. "Sorry I ruined the fun."

Steve shrugs. "It's not fun if you're not having fun."

Bucky leans in for a proper kiss, long and soft. He sucks sweetly on Steve's lip, gets him all warmed up again. He's felt like there was ice in his veins since Bucky called things off, and it's good to get back to a baseline. Bucky's hand settles on his thigh, and he presses in for a deeper kiss. 

Steve leans back. "Can we just cool it for a while?"

Bucky frowns and squeezes his thigh. "I'm okay. Swear to god."

"I know." Steve lies back in bed and stretches out, giving Bucky his best bedroom eyes. He was never able to resist those. "Let's just take a nap. Recharge our batteries."

"'Recharge our batteries.'" Bucky snorts, but he settles beside Steve anyway, facing him. "Look at this fancy future guy."

It takes a little arranging for them to get comfortable, knees slotted together and arms loosely wrapped around each other. But they fit, and Steve can feel Bucky breathe with his whole body, see the dark fan of his eyelashes against his cheek. He relaxes, and Steve almost thinks he's asleep before his lashes twitch.

"When we're recharged," Bucky says, "maybe I can spank you. Just slap you around a little. Nothing fancy, but it's something, right?"

Steve squeezes his elbow gently. There's so much more they can do now that Bucky doesn't have to worry about breaking him, and Steve can't deny he's been eyeing Bucky's metal hand, imagining what it could do to him. But they've got time, they've got _rules_ and acronyms and all the things they didn't have before, just two kids fumbling around what felt good. He knows it's going to be good. "That'd be great."

**Author's Note:**

> If we like the same stuff, you should hang out with me on [tumblr](http://villainsexuale.tumblr.com)!


End file.
